Dealing with Cancer's topsy turvy world...

Mr H often says I am in awe of you Dawn

why I persist

It's how you deal with the cancer and treatment, how you cope, how you still help others. 

On February 10th this year when the diagnosis of cancer was calmly delivered in a small clinic room as we stared at the Xray of my breast on the computer, I dropped my head into my hands... then I looked up into Mr H's pale face and said:

I can't do this I'll never cope.

The annoyingly slim, dark haired, Consultant said: 

but you will cope Dawn and I wanted to scream how do you bloody know ...

At home I sobbed. I shouted. Hit cushions. Stormed from one room to another as I wrung my hands...

had I hit the wall of 'not coping' or was this my way of coping with bad news?

As I endured the two weeks until my appointment with the surgeon to learn the fate of my beautiful breast, I shed enough tears to fill a reservoir. I made phone calls then put down the phone, too upset to talk. Every time someone said you are strong or stay positive I wanted to shout STOP BLOODY SAYING THAT! 

Cards dropped on the mat and I hid them away. I am not ill

Was this 'not coping' or was it my way of dealing with a traumatic event?

I no longer believe there is such a thing as 'not coping' 

In the last three weeks I have dealt with a range of symptoms...my way of coping...

With no energy to go beyond the front door and even though a strong breeze chased clouds across the sky I rested in the garden amongst flowers and the twitter of my newly fledged blue tits...









On a day at the seaside, unable to walk far I concentrated on a tiny crab lying motionless in the sand and curious fossils embedded in a stone, even though their hearts no longer beat they have left their beautiful marks...

...and when the sea side wind caused my head and ear to pulsate for two days I grumbled loudly at anyone happy to listen then visited my GP. But next time, like a geek, I will wear a woolly hat pulled low over my wig covered ears, however hot the sun!

Nowadays living dangerously means daring to eat a poached egg when the yolk is still dippy soldier runny and when I can go to the allotment my tasks are nearly all on my bum...

But my bone marrow has coped with the chemotherapy onslaught this time. My neutrophil count is already high enough for me to have Chemo 3. 

On time!

I am coping...

If you are faced with a mountain, you have several options,

You can climb it and cross to the other side.

You can go around it.

You can dig under it.

You can fly over it.

You can blow it up.

You can ignore it and pretend it's not there.

You can turn around and go back the way you came.

Or you can stay on the mountain and make it your home

Vera Nazarian. The perpetual calendar of inspiration